Gone
by erikorlando'sgirl
Summary: COMPLETED! We all know the story of how close Erik was to killing Raoul at the end of the drama...but what if Erik really did kill Raoul? What happens one year later? Is Christine going insane? Takes up from ALW and Leroux. My first fanfic. R&R please!
1. The Choice

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this...WHAAAAA! Gaston Leroux owns the original story, but this fanfic takes up from Andrew Lloyd Webber...no likie, no readie...  
  
A/N: Hi! If you read my last story, you know that it kinda went down the tube...but, I will try again! This idea came to me during our Social Studies class while I was bored...we were watching a boring video SO SUE ME! Hope you like! R/R please!  
  
I. The cold darkness was too much to bear, the pain and angst too much to experience, the drama being portrayed in the dungeon below was too much to watch, let alone be a part of.  
  
Raoul de Changy was hanging on for dear life while his lover stood before him with the mortal choice. His neck was in a noose and his heart had jumped into his throat for fear that she would make a wrong decision. He kept telling her to say no to the beast who tried to condemn her to a lifetime of darkness with him...a lifetime that was not really a life at all.  
  
"If you refuse me, your lover dies!", Erik yelled to Christine, telling her what she already knew, "If you take me, he will be let free, and you agree to be my bride..." he said in a little calmer tone. Erik had loved her ever since he first heard her sang. He was not going to let her go to another man.  
  
"Christine," said the viscount, talking in a whisper for he could not breathe much, "tell him no! You do not need to surrender your life to this damned place for my sake. Say no...say no..."  
  
Christine remained silent for many moments which seemed like lifetimes. She was so scared, scared for Raoul's life, scared for Erik's life, scared for her own life. How did it come to this?, she thought. How could I have let it come to this?  
  
The minutes went by, and Raoul's breath was becoming short. Erik was becoming very angry, violent, and worried that she would say no. The cold room in which they stood was soon being washed over by the sound of the mob coming to take Erik away and execute him for the crimes that he had committed. If Christine did not say her decision soon, they would all be executed.  
  
That night had been the performance of the opera Don Juan Triumphant, Erik's lifetime masterpiece. The emotions in the opera had not been unlike the composer's very own for his whole life: betrayal, angst, longing for compassion. He was sitting in Box 5, waiting until the right moment to sweep Christine from the stage into his lair. Killing Piangi was easy...just lure him to the right place, get him caught in the noose, and pull hard. Then, he went onto the stage in the most dramatic moment of the opera with Christine as Aminta, the lead lady part. When the time was right, they both disappeared down into the black lair below them. Raoul, being in love as he was, looked for a way down, but help found him before he found help. Madame Giry lead him into the lair of the man she knew as an Angel of Music, but she only lead Raoul as far as the pitch black lake. There, Raoul swam across, and went into the house where the love of his life was captured by the monster. Those events lead up until this moment.  
  
The room was still and quiet as Christine thought. Her choice would decide the fate of everyone. On the one hand, Erik had never been loved by anyone in his entire life, but on the other hand, Raoul was who she really loved. She could not really bear looking upon Erik's face day in and day out. How could she? In her actions she had shown fear, but inside, she was dying of misery when she saw the mangled, misshapen flesh...the twisted face...death's head...  
  
"You try my patience...make your choice!", Erik thundered. He was still waiting for a moment or two until someone finally spoke.  
  
"Christine, you need to think about it...how could you stand to live with him? Say no...you cannot live this life with him. Don't care about what happens to me, just say no, for pity's sake!", said Raoul. This was not the life he wanted her to live.  
  
"Monsieur, I think the decision all relies on Christine," said Erik tensely.  
  
They were both staring at her, waiting for her to make the final choice. She simply could not choose yet. Live with Erik, seeing his disfigured face all the time, knowing that Raoul is somewhere else, longing for her? Or say no, be returned to the world above without a man to care for her, settling with the fact that Raoul was dead, and knowing that she had lost both Raoul and Erik. She had to choose quickly, for the mob was approaching quickly, and they were almost to the lake, which they could get across in minutes.  
  
"CHOOSE!", Erik yelled, his anger at a boiling point.  
  
"SAY NO!", yelled Raoul at the same time.  
  
After one moment of silence, Christine spoke, "Erik, I cannot live with you, I cannot be your wife, and I cannot love you."  
  
"So be it," he replied in a harsh voice.  
  
Raoul began to feel a tightening on his throat. He knew that it would all be over soon, though, knowing Erik, it would be slow and painful. He could hardly breathe. He found himself beginning to close his eyes. The Punjab lasso was tightening slowly, strangling him. Then, he had enough breath to say his last words, "Christine, I love you." His body fell limp, dead. Christine screamed and fainted.  
  
A/N: This is only the first chapter if you liked it so far...I'm sorry to all you Raoul lovers, I just had an idea where what if Christine said no? so I had to try it! I'm sorry if it is a little too harsh or bad...and I'm sorry if someone already used this idea...please R/R! (and I really didn't mean to be mean to Erik...I love him! But I had to put it in to set the drama of the moment) 


	2. The Memory

A/N: Hi! If you read my other story 'The Wishes We Wish' and liked it, I'm sorry but I removed it...IT WAS A MARY-SUE AND IT STUNK! I promise places hand over heart and holds other hand in air where everyone can see that I will try not to ever write another Mary-Sue again someone catches a glimpse of crossed fingers (maybe). Thanx to kind reviewers! A smile to all of you! (sorry again to Raoul lovers, and I'm sorry if I'm being mean to Erik...I LUV HIM TOO!)  
  
II. Christine awoke with a cold sweat running down her face. Her room had an eerie look upon it with the full moon's light pouring in through the open window. A light breeze was blowing that made her skin crawl. One year, she thought. She got out of her Victorian bed and slowly made her way to the window. She was having the nightmare again, but never before had it seemed so real...so alive...  
  
When she got to the window intending to close it, she looked out first. The calmness of Paris was frightening to her. She had no one to comfort her, no one to watch out for her, no one to talk to her. She was all alone. Everyone was gone. Ever since the day that she lost both of the men in her life. That day was in the past, but the past always haunted her like a shadow that she could not see; always in darkness, following her every step, watching her every move. Her past always followed her. She was not safe anywhere; not even in her own mind.  
  
Christine remembered the events of one year ago perfectly; at least the ones she was conscious during...  
  
One year ago...  
  
After Christine had fainted, Erik saw no more reason to live. His twisted face was exposed, for Christine had ripped his mask off at the performance of his masterpiece. He was angry, he was murderous, and most of all, he was heartbroken. His love did not choose him, instead choosing to save her own life from him and his world of eternal shadow. He would live alone for the rest of his life...however long that was...  
  
Tears were pouring down the cracks and crevices in his deformed face. He could no longer stand looking upon the beauty of Christine. He was not worthy. He could not even build up the strength to touch the angel on earth. But she could not stay in the cold hell below the Opera Theatre. He wrapped his cloak around her unconscious form for the last time, sobbing as he did. The one chance for love had passed him by...never to return.  
  
When Christine had awoken from her fainted state, she was scared, thinking that she was in Erik's lair alone with the monster. But she was actually relieved to see her room surrounding her.  
  
"Raoul?", she called. She heard no answer. She thought he was the one who had carried home. "Raoul?", she called again. Silence answered her plea. "Raoul?" she cried more desperately for the last time. Then, the horrifying events replayed in her mind...the opera...snatching Erik's mask away for the audience to see...disappearing into the lair below...hearing Erik's yelling and ranting...Raoul coming into the lair...the Punjab lasso around Raoul's struggling neck...the choice...her love, dead...  
  
"NO!", she cried into the darkness. The tears poured out. The emotion welled up in the moment was too much to bear. She started to ease up slowly and she saw on her dresser, a brush. She ran to the dresser, took the brush up in her hand. The detail on the brush was beautiful. Her father had made it for her when he was not playing his violin. He worked on the brush for a full year. The brush was made of mahogany wood. The handle has many carvings of leaves and branches and thorns on it and on the very tip was a crafted rose that took the most time to carve. She loved the brush, for it was one of the only reminders of her father that she had left.  
  
"I'm sorry, Papa," she whispered to the brush that she held in her hand. She threw it into the mirror on her dresser, which smashed to pieces. Each piece looked like a glistening diamond in the moonlight. She grabbed the biggest piece and held it high above her head, closed her eyes, and brought it down.  
  
Christine opened her eyes. The remembrance of her near successful suicide was too real to think about. Good thing her servant came in just in time to call for a carriage to take her to the hospital. The bleeding had stopped a few minutes later. She had to go through therapy; everyone thought that she was crazy.  
  
The cold memory lingered in her mind: of the attempted suicide...of Raoul's death...of Erik...it was all too emotional for her that moment.  
  
It was early morning...around one o'clock. She shivered. The window was still opened. She closed it, but noticed something strange. The silk drapes on her window were still blowing. They did not stop when she closed the window. She was still cold...with the memory of one year ago. 


	3. The Voice

Disclaimer: I do not own therapy...I feel sorry for whoever does...and sorry to those who think that Erik's eyes are blue...I am taking off from ALW, but I thought gold would be awesome!  
  
A/N: Hey! I got a request to explain about Christine's therapy...this is going to be a toughy...I just got back from Shrek 2...HIGH RECOMMENDATIONS! It was awesome! Anyway...thanx for the good reviews! Keep it up! To answer Phantomgurl33's question, I do not know whether it will be an E/C ending...you and I will find out at the same time probably!  
  
III. Christine tried to go back to sleep, but it seemed as if her past was everywhere she was, even in her dreams. She could not stop thinking. Her eyes were shut, but her mind was still in overdrive remembering the events of the past year. Her therapy had been a bad experience. Her doctor, Dr. Gilroy, had not been easy on her. If anything, he had made her struggle.  
  
Therapy...  
  
The waiting room alone was a horror for her. The dark room reminded her of Erik's dark ways...the darkness that always surrounded him...the murderer...the twisted face...all absorbed into one deep hell out of which there was no return...even she was absorbed into the hell...but she had found a way out...at least she thought she did.  
  
The police still thought Monsieur de Changy's death to be a mystery never to be solved. But Christine knew the truth, though no one believed her. Mama Valerius was dead, so was papa, and Madame Giry and even little Meg were both held under arrest, being accused of robbing the managers of the salary that Madame Giry would bring to the so called 'Phantom of the Opera'. Erik was still to be pronounced a myth. That is why Christine was put into therapy. They all thought she was crazy. Maybe she was.  
  
The black trimmed walls and the big wooden chairs in the waiting room were enough to frighten Christine into being scared during her therapy session. She had no idea what she was in for during the full hour she was there.  
  
The secretary told Christine that Dr. Gilroy was ready for her. Christine hesitated before getting out of the roughly carven chair. Somehow, at hearing that the doctor was ready for her, the chair felt quite comfortable at that moment. It's for the best, thought Christine, I will be rid of Erik forever.  
  
Christine walked through the dark hallway to the therapy room. The walls were undecorated, black, cold. She could not bear to look at them. That was how she felt. She felt strange. She could not bear the memory of just a few weeks ago. It seemed like just yesterday.  
  
Christine, a voice echoed. Christine whirled around her looking wildly for the owner of the musical voice. She was alone in the hall, but she did not want to be. It seemed as though someone was watching her. She had no one to protect her. She was alone...alone.  
  
She shrugged it of and continued walking. Almost as soon as she took the first step, she heard the voice again, calling her name. It sounded so lovely, so hideous, and so familiar at the same time.  
  
Maybe I am crazy, she thought to herself. She continued walking again, but the voice did not speak again for a while longer. The blackness of the hallway seemed to go on forever. Then, she heard it again. But, it was not alone...this time, she felt a cold hand upon her shoulder. She jumped and screamed.  
  
"Christine? Are you okay? I didn't mean to frighten you," said the voice, "I'm Dr. Gilroy," he added  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just a little jittery right now. Nice to meet you, Doctor," she said, embarrassed. "Are you ready for me?"  
  
"Yes, I am. Come right this way," he said. He leaded her down a separate hallway that Christine did not see until now. The darkness made it too hard to see.  
  
After a few moments of silent walking, Christine spoke up, "Dr. Gilroy, did you call my name before you found me?"  
  
"No, Christine, I did not. Did you hear someone?", he replied, a little confused.  
  
"Oh, no, no one. Just wondering..." she trailed off. She heard it again coming from everywhere, directly at her. She began to see the room spinning. The voice with no owner was coming from all around, never stopping, always saying the same thing, always calling out her name in a musical tone that sounded so lovely, so hideous, so familiar...she could not stand it. She shrunk to her knees and began pulling her hair and banging the floor. It was controlling her, making her go crazy, driving her to the brink of insanity. She could no longer tell the difference between the voice and Dr. Gilroy's, for he, too, was screaming her name out in vain trying to bring her back to normal. Her screams of terror were growing louder and louder until she could no longer hear it. She went deaf and fainted, allowing darkness to overcome her.  
  
Christine sat up in her bed. That early morning was bad enough without the dream of her first therapy session haunting her. She remembered it all too well. Then, she remembered the date of the day. She had another therapy session later that day. If that was not enough to ruin her day. Her day was already ruined. Everyday was ruined for her.  
  
Realizing that she could not go back to sleep with the memories haunting her once pleasant dreams, she got up from her bed and looked out the window. The sun was rising. The day had begun with a sour note. Maybe it would get better...maybe it wouldn't...  
  
She gracefully walked to her dresser. She looked in the mirror at her reflection. Her silk nightgown looked beautifully on her. Her blonde curls were a little messy, but none the less beautiful. Her lips were not their usual red. Her face was not the beautiful tan that they always were. She was as pale as a ghost. Maybe it was because exactly one year ago, she had been being taught music by a ghost.  
  
At that thought, she thought of what happened to Erik. She sighed. No one knew. No one knew that he was real except for her, and the Girys. The other people who knew were dead. Christine thought about the memory she had of him. The first thing she remembered was his blazing golden eyes. They burned when he was angry, but shined when he could be compassionate. He was always in a dark sea of a mixture of feelings. He could have any feeling he wanted. The only one he wanted directed towards him was love. He could never have it...never. The next thing she remembered was his mysterious ways. He was always disappearing this way and that, though Christine never knew how. It was always a mystery, and it will remain a mystery. The last thing she remembered, but what she remembered it the most clearly even after a year: his face. The disfigurement was etched into her mind, never to leave. Every crack in his face, every fault was permanently placed into her mind as well as the night that she tore off his mask. The way he dug her nails into his rotten face. The way the flesh felt upon her very fingers. The living corpse...Erik...  
  
She thought that Erik might have committed suicide long ago. Maybe after she left...right after. Though her thought was very strong, some little voice at the back of her head was telling her different...it said, Erik's alive, waiting to get you for good. 


	4. The Unexpected

A/N: This is just out of the top of my head...please no flames for this part...it's been a while since I've seen my muse, so SUE ME! Hope you like...thanx for the reviews and keep it up! Sorry for the delay of the new chapter...I had a very busy weekend filled with outdoor event...especially picnics...ugh...  
  
IV. Christine came back to her senses and walked over to her dresser after staying at the window for a few minutes. She saw on the dresser, a box. She had never seen the box before. Maybe it was some new mail that she had gotten that very morning. It was around ten o'clock now. She looked at the box. It was not very big in size: about the size of her fist. The small box was plain brown, not decorated except for a fine red ribbon that was bound around it. She untied the ribbon and tied it into her blonde curls. When the ribbon was gone, she saw in a fine, loopy print, the words To You, from Someone.  
  
She pondered the words with great thought. She did not even know what was inside the small box, let alone, who sent it. Soon, after great curious thoughts, she carefully opened the box. Inside the box was a leather pouch that was a very dark shade of blue. The feel of the pouch was wonderful against her pale fingers. She opened the pouch to find a diamond ring, along with a folded note. It read:  
  
My Dearest,  
  
This ring is to help you remember the events of long ago. It took me a long time to find it, but I did. I know what happened to you one year ago, though others do not believe you. I have found out the occurrences from a secret source that I cannot speak of. These events have been close to your heart, especially the passing of Monsieur de Changy. I am terribly sorry for your great loss. This ring is a reminder of your love for the viscount, and of your other loss. This ring is mainly a reminder of your loss of Monsieur Erik, the Angel of Music, as you once called him, though you now think of him as a devil of shadow. Yes, I know of these events, of the real reason for Monsieur de Changy's death, and of Erik. You know who I am, but you do not know. I know you, and where to find you.  
  
Yours  
  
That is all there was in this tiny box. She could not ponder who this person was. How is it, then, that 'Yours' said that she knew who he or she was? Maybe it was someone she knew...or did not expect...  
  
Christine found silent tears pouring down her face and saw wet blotches on the unsigned note. Who was 'Yours'? How did 'Yours' know her? How did 'Yours' know about Erik? While pondering these questions and more, she looked down upon the ring which sat in the palm of her hand. She scanned the gold band, looking at its delicately carved roses with diamonds in their centers. She saw her initials in the inside of the small ring. She tried it on her left ring finger, just for size. She found it a perfect fit. She took off the ring and let it fall with a silent thump to the floor. She would know that ring anywhere. That was the ring that Erik had used to propose to her. How did 'Yours' find it? Who was 'Yours' anyway? When would her past stop haunting her?  
  
"Mlle. Christine?", a voice echoed through the silent halls.  
  
"Yes?", she called a little unsteadily.  
  
"You have a visitor," called out the voice again, this time Christine recognized it as her maid's.  
  
Christine walked quietly out of her room and into the hall. The walls of her hallway were very different from the therapy building's walls. Her walls were decorated with pictures of her ancestors. As she walked, she looked up at each one. When she would look at one, she would whisper the name to herself, the pictures, the memory. These pictures were very close to her, and she was glad that she had remained alive to see them again. As she was nearing the end of the hallway, one of them made her stop in her tracks. It was a portrait of her father. He looked tall and handsome holding his prized violin, and she was always looking upon it in awe when she would pass by it, but this day was different. One year ago, her life changed...forever.  
  
"Mademoiselle?", a voice called. This time it was not her maid's voice. It had startled her. She did not know who was visiting her, but the voice did sound familiar.  
  
"Good morning, Monsieur," said Christine, bowing her head as she entered the living room. Her visitor was on the couch, but had gotten up when she walked in and spoke.  
  
"As to you, Mademoiselle," said the man, taking her hand in his and placing a soft kiss upon her silky skin. She blushed at the kind gesture. It had been very long since someone had done that unto her.  
  
"I am not sure that you know who I am, Mlle. Christine," said the man. Oh, but she knew who he was, just not why he was here.  
  
"Yes, I know who you are, M. Nadir," she replied, "You walked the corridors in the Opera House...and I think you knew of someone I dreamed about for a long time," she added.  
  
"Then, since you know who I am, do you know why I am here?", he asked. She shook her head signifying that she had naught a clue.  
  
"Mlle. , I am here to warn you. I know what happened to you, M. Raoul, and Erik one year ago today, and I do not want to frighten you, but I have a bad feeling about today," he said in a serious tone. Now, Christine knew very well that the Persian man standing before her was usually right when it came to anything and everything even though she did not know him that well. She could see it in his eyes.  
  
"Monsieur, I think of it very kind that you are concerned for my well being, but a feeling...it is just a feeling," she said after a few moments of silence.  
  
She could not keep eye contact with Nadir. His eyes were too strong, too right. Instead, she looked about her living room that she knew all too well. The nicks and crannies of her living room were all used for every hide and seek game that Christine would play with Raoul day in and day out. She had inherited Mama Valerius's home after she had died. She would think of this house as if it were her own for years even though it had only been a few months.  
  
Nadir took notice that Christine could not look him in the eye, so he took her pale face in his warm hands and turned her eyes to meet his.  
  
"Christine," he said seriously, "It is not only a feeling. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that it is so. Have you been reading the newspaper lately?"  
  
It seemed like an odd question to ask at that moment and time, but Christine saw that his face was stern.  
  
"No, Monsieur, Mama Valerius taught me to not always believe what I read," she said in a quizzical tone. She started to get choked up, for she knew what was going to be thrust into her trembling hands.  
  
"Well, I hope that this time, you believe, and watch out for yourself," said Nadir, taking out today's newspaper. He held it out for Christine to take, but Christine did not take it. She saw it plain as day, though at that moment, she felt as if night was completely surrounding her. She fell to the floor, weeping as Nadir dropped the paper to cradle the crumbling girl. The maids of the household rushed in to see what the ruckus was about, but they all saw the reason why, by looking at the newspaper. The front headline in big, black, bold print read:  
  
THE PHANTOM HAS ESCAPED 


	5. The Newspaper

A/N: Hi! I just read my new reviews...to clear a few things up with what Erik escaped from, it was NOT prison and/or jail and I have changed the headline from 'Erik' to 'The Phantom has Escaped' since not many people know that his real name is Erik...maybe this chappie will clear some stuff up...hopefully...sorry if it stinks...I just went to the dentist for two hours and a half...I hate Invisalign...(just a little note...just incase you don't know French, the phrase in French means "I will get you")...P.S.-(this P.S. is three days after I started this chappie...) I have been banned from fanfic for the rest of the week...I'm sneaking on right now...so I'm sorry that this is late...and, no, RubyMoon2, I'm not stopping yet...and sorry to those who tried to e-mail me but I didn't reply and/or it didn't work...I don't know what's wrong and/or I'm busy and will e-mail you soon!  
  
V. Christine felt a little better after what had happened that morning. The Persian had offered to call her a carriage to take her to breakfast, but she had resisted, saying that she needed some fresh air. "Maybe it would do you good to be in the light and fresh air, Mademoiselle, but please be careful. Erik is not as afraid of light anymore. He might turn up where you least expect it," warned Nadir. She saw the fear in his deep eyes, but told him that she would be extra careful. She also did not want him knowing that she had to go to therapy. He did not need to know that she was crazy. Christine waved to the Persian as he rode away in a carriage. She went back inside to quickly wash and then, she would be on her way.  
  
When she walked back inside, she noticed something. The newspaper was still on the floor. All of France was now aware that Erik was real. She saw the bold print staring back at her, as if coaxing her to read more. She did just that. The article said:  
  
Paris is once again under a cloak of darkness. 'Le Phantome de le Opera', is once again at large. We found a figure this morning on the sidewalk by the Opera House, dead. We discovered that the person was the victim of a stabbing of forty-two times. We found a note on the body written in a scribble handwriting saying, "Je volonte obtenir tu...O.G." Many of you must think that this might be some murderer covering up for his crime by calling himself 'O.G.', but we have proof that this really is the ghost from one year ago. Madame Giry used to be the ballet mistress at the Opera Theatre, but that was not her most important role. She claimed to be the keeper of Box 5, which many people know is the 'Ghost's Box'. We took a finger print sample from the box by using the program for the opera 'Don Juan Triumphant', which, apparently, had been left there after the performance last year. We compared the finger print from the program to the finger print we lifted off of the note we found by the body. We found a match between the two. Because of the proof of the ghost's existence, Madame Giry and her daughter, Meg Giry, have been released from prison, cleared of their robbery accusation. We strongly caution all young women to stay clear of strange men. If you catch a glimpse of someone who you think looks like our long lost ghost, please, alert the authorities immediately.  
  
Christine could read no longer even though the article took up another full page, full of what happened a year ago. She let the newspaper fall to the floor. Erik was looking for her. She knew it. She could feel it in her weak bones. How did he escape? She knew that the mob had boarded up his lair underneath the Opera Theatre. Even he could not get out of it. But, maybe he could have. She really did not know him that well. All she knew was the angry side of him, which he almost always had. She did not know the magical side of him that well. Oh, she knew he could disappear from anywhere, but through solid walls? Maybe it was possible...for Erik.  
  
She shuddered at the cold memory of that cruel man. How he obsessed over her. How he thought he loved her. But that was not really love. It was obsession. She looked down at the newspaper at her feet. But it was not a newspaper that was there. It was a mask. A white, silk mask. She picked up the mask and looked into the eye hole that stared back up at her. Then, it evaporated in her hands.  
  
A/N: Sorry for all the special effects...I thought it was cool...hope it's not too weird for you...oh well...now, you may click the Review button! 


	6. The Mother

A/N- Sorry it took me sooooo long to update...you REALLY don't want to know my schedule...plus I was banned because of my bro...sorry if this is too short!  
  
A/N again- Some people were questioning why Erik stabbed the person instead of Punjabed them...I will tell you right now, he is saving it for someone else...he only has one shot (Pirates of the Caribbean quote...I LOVE YOU, WILL!!!!) at Punjabing someone cause the magic is wearing out of it since it had been sitting useless for a whole year. Also, I don't know if they had fingerprint technology back then...OOPS! Thanks, Nit-picker for pointing those things out! This chappie is all in Erik's point of view (second person, not first...sorry!)...I just need to have at least ONE of those, right? Hope you like!!!!! R/R please!!!!!! I need them!!!!!!  
  
VI. Eerie blackness, cold night, hatred from hell, scarred for life...this is how he felt. No, this is how he was. A creature formed in the pitch- blackness of the night, never to be seen by the angels, for they would cry tears to destroy the earth. He could not even bear to think of himself, let alone look at himself. He was forever cursed by the devil to roam for as long as he lived with a damned face that his own mother would not comfort.  
  
Erik looked down into the streets below. He chuckled at the memory of his mother. She had been a beauty. The soft, creamy brown hair that framed her delicate face was curly; her face was always half covered in make-up, which made her look none the less beautiful; her bright rouge lips, her pale eyes, her high cheekbones. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known...other than Christine.  
  
Erik had never seen his mother happy. She always had a look of fear in her eyes, a feel of hatred in her every menacing step. She had shown every inch of her hatred in everything she did to him. He would back up against the wall and cry silent tears at her beatings and merciless torture. He remembered every cut, every bruise, every wound. He would bandage and care for his wounds which would reopen the next beating.  
  
At night, Erik would hear his mother sulking by her window. She had always cried to herself and her God that it was not fair that she had given birth to a Devil child. She would stay up night after night after night and talk to the God who had played this evil trick on her. Erik would stay up night after night after night listening to her, crying with her though his room was farther away from hers. Every night while listening, he would wonder the same things as his cruel mother did. Why did God send him to this beautiful woman? Why must he be deformed? Was he even sent from God? Could possibly the Devil have sent him?  
  
The day his mother left him was a rainy day. He woke up that morning with a positive attitude. He would do his best to make his mother happy that day. He did not know why that day was so special, he just felt that he should do something for her. He walked down the stairs and into the living room where he saw a black suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor. He also saw carry bags and purses strewn across the carpet. One bag was open, and he saw clothes being hastily shoved in. He strode to the bag and looked inside at the clothes. His mother had bought those not too long ago. He dropped the bag and did not look down to see the contents spill out across the floor. His mother was leaving. She walked in to see her bag right next to her son and the contents all around.  
  
"Where are you going, Mother?", he cried.  
  
"Don't you call me that!", she screamed to him, giving him a blow across his cheek. He tasted the blood in his mouth.  
  
"Where are you going, Mother?", he asked again.  
  
She never answered. He heard the slamming of the door and felt the tears pouring down his cheeks. He looked out of the rain soaked window to see a carriage pulling away from his house...away from him.  
  
The Phantom reached up to his eye to find a tear rolling down his cheek. That horrid childhood was too much. The gypsies had been no kinder than his own mother. They had beat him in the same way. He was shoved into a cage instead of receiving a nice room or tent as did all the others. He finally ran away from the prison, but he was scarred by the memory.  
  
He was still burdened by the fact that no one had accepted him for who he was. His mother had met an end upon her own hands because she could not bear the memory of her son plaguing her mind. The Persian empire had turned upon him, almost executing him. Christine had been the worst of them all. He gave her a beautiful voice, a home, the stage, and love. She had taken her voice and fled, sacrificing her lover's life at his wish. But, some things are not as they seem. Some things that were, are again. Something is going around all of Paris; something mysterious, beautiful, horrifying. No one knows...no one but Erik.  
  
Erik looked down into the streets below...always looking, never being...  
  
A/N: Very sorry for the shortness of the chappie...my muse is getting ready for the swim meet on Saturday...wish me luck (cause if I break two personal bests, I get to go see Troy!!!!! I LOVE YOU, ORLANDO!!!) !!!!!!!!! You may now review...go on, review...ugh, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! REVIEW!!!!!!!!!  
  
PS- This will be my last chappie until next Friday cause I am going on a Youth Group Trip and won't get back till late next Thursday, so I will miss you all and review while I'm gone!!!! 


	7. The Rain

A/N: Ok peoples...I have been away on a trip for four or five days and have gotten NO reviews at all! What the heck is wrong with ya'll?! I NEED REVIEWS! Some of this is in Erik's pov (point of view) Ok...hope you like the new chappie and sorry for the length of not updating...I was on a trip and I had a blast! I missed ya'll though...R/R...(PS- stuffies in brackets are flashbacks...for some reason, when I put italics, they don't show up on fanfic...anyone got any tips?) (PPS- I just got a new review in...SUP LINKY?! And you know my trip was awesome...HECK YOU WERE THERE! I'm wearing my new shirt-the Orlando one-tomorrow to show my friend...thanx for reviewing! I will try to call you l8tr...)  
  
VII. Christine walked along the streets of Paris in a light drizzle. The fog had drawn a hazy blanket over the town and gave it an eerie feel. She pulled her shawl around herself tighter. It made her feel no warmer. She was always cold on the inside...at least whenever Raoul was not there.  
  
[ "Oh no!", cried the young beauty. Her beautiful pale complexion was too beautiful for the little lad to pass up. He fixed his eyes upon the sea. In the distance, he saw a little red object floating on the surface of the glimmering water. He glanced at how far away it was from the sandy shore. He could swim well, though he was afraid of there being sharks in the darks seas. He looked back at the young little girl. Her lovely looking face was enough encouragement to make the young Raoul jump into the ocean and battle the harsh waves to get to the floating red scarf.  
  
Christine glanced at the lad in the ocean. She had seen his nice clothes and expensive accessories and thought that he was a rich snob. But now she had known that he had a kind heart. "Be careful, monsieur!", Christine shouted out to the boy fighting waves to save her floating, damp scarf.  
  
Christine's father chuckled at the sight. The young viscount in the sea trying to impress the beautiful, though poor, singer was too cute. He had always hoped that Christine's childhood was better than his own. Maybe this would change things. She had always needed a friend to talk to other than her father. Hopefully she would find one in the viscount.]  
  
Christine snapped out of memory lane at the remembrance of her father. His life had not been long. She had missed him so much. Her need for her father was like the need of water, but somehow she had lived on. She hadn't a clue about how she could survive without her father to be there for her, to comfort her, to love her forever. But, maybe she lived on her memories alone. After all, that was all she had left.  
  
It was now raining a little harder and it got a little foggier. She had the weird feeling that she was being watched. She quickened her steps to a faster pace. It was beginning to look a little darker. She was going to be late for her therapy session, not that she didn't want to be. The eerie feeling of being watched was still upon her, though, the gold eyes were still upon her also...  
  
Erik...  
  
She looked so beautiful. His spot on the roof of the Opera House was too high to see her clearly, but he could see anything with those piercing golden eyes. She had never been able to look into those eyes. She had never been able to look at him at all even. His own mother had never been able to look at him. He could not even look at himself. He always cast darkness upon himself to live forever alone...until she came into his life.  
  
Erik saw the drizzle turn into a harder rain with a steady drip drop sound. The sound was rhythmic and he found that it resembled a song he once heard Christine sing with- no, he could not even say the name of the man who had met a death upon his hands, or was it upon Christine's? The song mixed harmony and melody to create a haunting piece that was both romantic, and horrifying to his ears.  
  
Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime...  
  
Say the words and I will follow you...  
  
Share each day with me, each night, each moment...  
  
Say you love me...  
  
You know I do...  
  
"Love me, that's all I ask of you..." Erik finished, ending the song that echoed in his head. He had been glad that Christine was alive after all of these years, but she was still scarred by the loss of her lover...but, all was not lost...someone was returning...and Christine was in for a rude awakening from an old friend...or two...  
  
A/N: Sorry for shortness...and I do not own the song...and you reviewers get a smiley if you can guess who the two old friends are...and you get Punjabed if you guess wrong! LOL! 


	8. The Therapy

A/N- This was not updated until a week after I wrote it...for some reason, my new fanfic is not on the website anymore and I was blocked from creating a new story and/or updating until a week later! If anyone knows why, please tell me in your review or send me an e-mail. Hope you like the new chappie! And I'm goin' see Troy on Sunday! YAYETH! PS- RubyMoon2, you get a smiley! - YAYETH! (and I cannot say who the second person is...one of the two is correct!)  
  
VIII.  
  
Christine sat with her hands folded gracefully on her lap. She had her eyes fixed on the floor. She never spoke when it came to therapy. The waiting room had not changed much in a year. Still the same marble black walls, still the same secretary, still the same horrible feeling she got whenever she was there.  
  
The black dress that she had worn that day had the bodice pulled tight and accented her nice curves. She had had lace on the collar and the sleeves. It had belonged to Mama Valerius. Christine was left with it after she had died. The beautiful dress looked wonderful on her, though it sat uncomfortably on her limp form. She had always admired the dress of Mama Valerius when she was young, but she had always wished it as a color other than black. Christine knew that black was a mourning color and had always loved rainbows of color upon everything. She asked Mama Valerius many a time if she could wear the dress and try to imagine it a different color. Mama Valerius would always reply that she was too little for such a big dress, but she herself would always imagine it a different color. Now, Christine understood that it should always be black. She understood mourning for she was deep in mourning for as long as she could remember.  
  
She distracted herself from bleak thoughts by looking about the room she knew all too well though it did nothing to help calm herself. She noticed that the walls had been neatly polished and saw that they had added a chair or two. Not that anyone would want to sit in the uncomfortable chairs; apparently they had gotten a new patient or two. She also saw that they had added a nursery. She had figured that it was most probably for the babies of crazy mothers to wait in, but she saw men and women her age playing in there. Some people had a worse condition than hers. That gave her a boost of confidence.  
  
"Christine Daae," called the secretary in her usual hazy tone.  
  
Christine sunk back down in her chair, all confidence forgotten. She really loathed the long walk down the dark, silent halls, but today, she loathed it even more. She told herself that she had to do it sometime, so she rose, shaking, from the chair and started her long walk down the hall.  
  
She had noticed at the beginning of her walk that the rain had gotten harder. There were no windows in the hall, but she could hear the rhythmic beatings upon the hard ceiling. She started to hum a familiar tune. Before she knew it, she was singing, her voice echoing off the marble walls:  
  
"Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime...  
  
Say the words and I will follow you...  
  
Share each day with me, each night, each moment...  
  
Say you love me..."  
  
"You know I do," a voice answered. She stopped singing, but continued to walk as if she had not heard it.  
  
A little time later she heard it again, "Christine, I know you hear me...come to me..."  
  
"Laisser moi, Diable! Leave me, Devil!", she cried to no one. She turned about herself and looked once more down the empty halls. She turned and turned until darkness completely surrounded her and there was no difference in her eyes between the way she came from and the way she was going. She was lost.  
  
"Papa," she sobbed, "why did you leave me? I cannot live alone..." she sobbed into the darkness. She sat on the ground, her face in her hands, her dress wrinkled and tears covering her.  
  
"Christine," said the voice again. She had figured it was her imagination playing tricks on her so she remained in her position. "Christine," it called again.  
  
"Christine!", it called a final time and she finally looked up to see Dr. Gilroy standing above her.  
  
"Oh! Monsieur, forgive me, I have forgotten my way..."  
  
"Think nothing of it, mademoiselle," said Dr. Gilroy in reply. He helped her off of the ground and Christine saw that he was carrying a candle this time, and he was not alone.  
  
"I am very sorry for taking so long to come and get you. I was just getting finished with another patient. I expect you can find your way from here?", he questioned of the patient. He nodded. Christine took a better look at the patient. He was tall and had a sweet face. His hair was slightly mussed and a chestnut brown. His lips were rosy and he had a smile on his face. That was the first time Christine had ever seen someone smile at therapy.  
  
The man politely bowed to Christine, but when he had gotten up from his bow, he looked deep into her face and looked shocked. He stood there frozen for a few moments when Christine said, "Good day, Monsieur, I am..." and just when she was going to say her name, Dr. Gilroy pulled her by the arm and said, "Come on, dear, it is time for your appointment." Christine starred after the young man and looked into his eyes. His eyes looked back. Christine looked on in shock...his eyes were baby blue.  
  
Christine walked along side Dr. Gilroy in silence, waiting for someone to speak. When they finally got to the room, she felt a sense of dread. She hated her appointments because she always had a headache afterwards, and she never remembered what had happened. Maybe this time would be different.  
  
Dr. Gilroy said, "Good day, mademoiselle."  
  
"Monsieur, I keep getting headaches after my appointments and I don't know why..." said Christine.  
  
"Well, why don't you sit down?" and he shoved her into the nearest chair. She struggled and yelled, but it was no use. He was too strong. He gave her a tranquilizer. She wouldn't remember anything that had happened. She sat upright in her chair. The doctor sat down in a chair right behind her, whispering in her ear, "You will now obey my every command." She nodded. He loved getting information from the little Daae girl. She had been very foolish in her life. But now, he had found a use for her. He had always been against the Opera ghost, ever since his mother, Carlotta, had been a direct target for his pranks. Dr. Gilroy had always sought revenge for the cruel treating of his mother, but had never found a way to get it. Now the Daae girl was leaking information about the past and who was connected to the ghost.  
  
"Tell me everything you know of the Opera Ghost," he whispered. And she told him, never knowing what she was doing, who was involved, or who owned the two golden eyes that were watching her all the while.  
  
A/N- Very sorry for weirdfulness (cool, new word!)...oh well...R & R...and BlueBeauty, I do not have any instant messenger...long story...THANX TO MY STUPID SISTER! PS- Sup Linky! I didn't call you yet, but I will soon! I'll be waiting for your answer...MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! clears throat Sorry about that...Review! 


	9. Those Involved

A/N- Sorry it took me so long to update...I went on a trip (again) and I do not own a laptop...darn...R&R...stuffies in brackets are stuffies in italics...my italics don't show up on fanfic...darn...again...  
  
IX.  
  
The first...  
  
Another headache, thought Christine as she walked the rain-soaked cobblestones. She hadn't remembered what had happened at all, only that she had seen someone familiar to her but could not put a name on him...those eyes...those blazing blue eyes...  
  
Christine pulled her shawl more tightly around her. She had experienced many cold nights as these. That was when her father was there to calm her tears by the soft melodic sounds of his prized violin. Christine had always loved that violin; almost as much as her father had. The soft feel of the chestnut wood, the strong hum of the bow pulling across the chords, the intricate detail of the carvings upon the instrument. She had remembered the cruel day her father was forced to sell it. They hadn't even met Mama Valerius yet. They had no money left and had not eaten in days. A man in a finely tailored suit passed by them and heard their peaceful duet. He stopped and Papa stood up to talk to him. Little Christine had not heard much, but she did hear that the man was offering Papa 200 francs for the violin that 'played music to soothe angels', as he had said. She was horrified as she saw her father slowly trade his violin for the bills. "Do not worry, Little Lotte," Papa had said, "we will get it back someday." But they hadn't. Papa got sick, and the violin could no longer soothe his pain. To try and calm her father's choking coughs, Christine would sing to him.  
  
"Little Lotte let her mind wander...  
  
Little Lotte thought...  
  
Am I fonder of dolls...?  
  
Or of Goblins or shoes...?  
  
Or of riddles or frocks...?  
  
Or of chocolates...?"  
  
Christine, coming back out of her flashback state, paused after singing the short hymn. Should she continue? She knew what words lay ahead. Certainly they were just words, right? No, they were much more. But, she continued to sing:  
  
"No, what I loved best,  
  
Lotte said is when I'm  
  
asleep in my bed..."  
  
She sang slower:  
  
"And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head."  
  
[And the Angel of Music sings songs in your head], a voice echoed. Christine looked wildly about her searching for the owner of the voice but found something different. It was true: Little Lotte certainly did let her mind wander. The passage she took had seemed familiar, but she had not realized where she was going. She was standing right in front of the solid, cold, dark memory that haunted her. Tears fell down her cheeks as she gazed upon the Paris Opera Theatre.  
  
The second...  
  
How can someone so beautiful be so cold?, he thought. Her soft features were all looking harsh, tense, afraid. He had scared her away. He had always frightened those he loved, those he hadn't loved him. Erik was upon Apollo's Lyre staring at his Angel as if to remembers her appearance for all of eternity. Not that he didn't already.  
  
He saw the statue had droplets on it. It was raining. He didn't even know. He could no longer feel: he had lost his sense of touch a month after Christine left. He would never be able to feel her soft skin...never.  
  
Erik turned his gaze upon the small beauty. He remembered the night of her first performance. The overly dramatic cow, Carlotta, was scared because of a simple prank he had played and Christine won the part. She had done better than he had expected. That was when that boy ruined his plans. Erik's thoughts shifted. The boy was no longer there, and Christine was. A small smile crept upon his face. With a sweeping of his cloak, Erik summoned a violin tune coming from Christine's dressing room that was so hypnotic, she could never resist it.  
  
The third...  
  
She was there. He had seen her. She looked so beautiful after so long. He had never seen someone as beautiful as her. Her delicate curves and petite form were all too beautiful her almost felt unworthy. Almost.  
  
He was sitting on the ground of somewhere unknown to all but himself, thinking of the woman he had seen. He knew today was important to her, even fearful. She had not even recognized him. Good. She was very close, though. So, she was going crazy. He was just an assistant, not a patient as was said. Maybe she wasn't crazy. Maybe she was. No matter. He would find out soon enough. He had little time left as it was, so he stood up and started walking the streets of Paris, searching for the girl. The young, beautiful girl called Christine Daae.  
  
A/N- Very sorry for shortness of everythin'...this was written in VERY small notebook to be typed on the computer...this was also written on the road and I have a VERY short attention span as you can see...yeah...  
  
Your Mission: Figure out who 3rd person is (no, Erik was the 2nd person!)  
  
My Mission: Say sorry for shortness, and confusion, and complete pointlessness of this chappie... "Sorry for shortness, and confusion, and complete pointlessness of this chappie!"  
  
Your OTHER Mission: Review...HOP TO IT!...please? 


	10. Those Wandering

A/N- Hi! I am tryin' my best to do good chappies...I know that the past few chappies were kinda pointless and weird...sorry...I am thinkin' of ending it soon...it's reachin' it's climax, and I know I'm ending it soon and the chappies weren't long, but it all takes place in one day! Give me a break! I am going to try my best to make it last until chappie 15...sorry I'm cuttin' it short! Oh well...another fanfic is on the way! R&R!  
  
X.  
  
She heard the violin music. The sweet lullaby was beautiful. Where was it coming from? Who was playing it? Surely the Opera Theatre had closed down a year ago. There was no way that it could still be running with all the bad publicity that it earned. The managers were clearly run out of business. Though the violin music continued to play. She wondered, and then wandered. She had to find out where the music was coming from. Christine looked up at the Opera Theatre again before moving inside the large doors.  
  
She looked around the interior of the lobby. The red carpeted floors had begun to fade. The desk for buying tickets was covered in dust. A few programs were scattered around. The lights above her were hidden beneath curtains of cobwebs, but she could see they had lost none of their grandeur. She heard the violin music still playing. She continued on.  
  
The marble steps leading to the theatre were dusty and full of sod. She remembered that it had been raining that night. Apparently, many people had mud on their feet. The golden railings were faded, though still gleaming. As her fingers trailed along the gold, she left tiny fingerprints. She walked up the stairs. Her heels made a soft clunking noise as she made her way up. The clunking echoed, and the violin persisted. At the top of the stairs she paused. She knew that she must continue on, but she paused for a moment, remembering that particular spot. She did not know why until she looked at her surroundings. It was the way to the boxes. She stood stiffly in her position for a moment before turning slowly to her left and looking at the sign that said 'Box 5'. She looked up at the stairs leading up to the box she recalled more than any box. She listened for the violin music to give her strength. She had hoped that the violin music was not coming from there. Much to her relief, it was not. The violin continued the lullaby and she continued her way down the staircase.  
  
The staircase was a fond memory of Christine's. She had always loved watching the ballet rats sitting on it and talking, Meg most prominent of them all, telling stories of the Opera Ghost. Christine had known of the subject of many of their conversations, though she slightly recalled their paused whispering whenever she grew near of them. As she continued on, she looked down at the marble beneath her footsteps. Amidst the clunking of her heels, she heard a different noise. A small crunch told her that she had stepped on something. She picked up the object and looked at it through the darkness. It was not broken, and she was glad it hadn't been. It was a chain, and on the chain was an engagement ring. It was the engagement ring from Raoul. Erik must have dropped it at the Masquerade after he ripped it from her thought. She remembered the night Raoul had proposed to her. It had been so romantic. That was those glorious six months when they didn't have to worry about Erik. She was so eager to become Christine de Changy she had begged Raoul to let them get married that very day. Raoul had wanted to wait until the 'right time' as he had said. He wanted her to have the best wedding in Paris. So she waited, and waited, and waited. Then, Erik had appeared again with his 'Don Juan Triumphant' and the trap was set. And Raoul ended up dead...  
  
Her thoughts trailed off as she heard the violin shift songs. It was no longer a soft lullaby, it was a tune she had known well. She started to sing.  
  
"Masquerade...  
  
Paper faces on parade...  
  
Masquerade...  
  
Hide your face so the world will never find you...  
  
Masquerade...  
  
Every face a different shade...  
  
Masquerade...  
  
Look around there's another mask behind you...  
  
Flash of mauve...  
  
Splash of puce...  
  
Fool and king...  
  
Ghoul and goose...  
  
Green and black...  
  
Queen and priest...  
  
Trace of rouge...  
  
Face of beast...  
  
Faces...  
  
Take your turn, take a ride...  
  
On a merry-go-round...  
  
In an inhuman race...  
  
Eye of gold...  
  
Thigh of blue...  
  
True is false...  
  
Who is who...?  
  
Faces...  
  
Drink it in, drink it up...  
  
'Till you drown in the light, in the sound..."  
  
"But who can name the face?", said a familiar voice. Christine turned around and saw no one. She was alone.  
  
She continued down the staircase while putting the chain around her neck. It sparkled. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she took a good look at the theatre. Some of the chairs were uprooted, some were ripped open, and some were not even there. The chandelier was not there. Erik must have torn it down after she had left. She heard the violin music, a lullaby again, and continued on. Before she left, she looked around the room again. She paused, then started walking faster towards the music, not looking back. The color had faded from many things at the Opera Theatre, but it had not faded from the golden eyes of Erik.  
  
A/N- I am not updatin' 'till at least two weeks...sorry! I have Championship Swimming tomorrow, then the Awards Banquet the next day, and then I got to WRITE the darn chappie, then I am gettin' my tonsils out! Wish me luck...with everythin'...luv y'all! 


	11. Those Trapped

A/N- Don't kill me 'cause I haven't updated in like two weeks. I've been in recovery for one week, the other, swim team was ending, so what do you expect me to do? Sorry again. Anyway, recovery sucks...trust me. I can't eat hardly anything, I can't do anything that will get me overheated, my throat is killing me, and I can't drink soda! HELP! Oh well, story gonna end soon, hope you like, please R&R.  
  
Disclaimer- Yes, I know, I don't own the song...that sucks...and I know I left out many parts and I'm not using the original version...I had to leave some room for the finish of the chappie, give me a break!  
  
XI.  
  
The black halls echoed back the monotonous sound of Christine's shoes hitting the solid, grime covered floor. The Daae girl had not yet found the source of the slow, peaceful violin lullaby. I should just turn back, she thought after lifting a cobweb that had fallen from the ceiling onto her shawl covered shoulder. But no matter how her mind shouted thoughts of turning away from the beautiful melody, her body would not move, except for forward, into the darkness. She persisted in her thoughts, then surrendered to the power of the music and continued on without question.  
  
Christine shivered in the cold, dark theatre. It had been exactly one year since she had set foot within at least five miles of the theatre. She had missed the grandeur, the love, the compassion that showed in everything that was built. She missed the stage, the thrill of being in front of an audience whose hushed voices and silent chatter all ceases when you stand in front of them, with the lights upon you, waiting to begin a marvelous show filled with romance, mystery, beauty, and tragedy. Magic happens at the theatre, she decided. But she knew that more than just staged magic happens at that particular theatre. More than that. She herself witnessed it in the most horrible of ways. Erik. Even his name caused her a weak knee whenever she heard it. She remembered the very night she tore his mask away for the first time, looking upon a face of horror.  
  
[Flashback]  
  
Erik sat at the organ, his gloved hands pounding away at the smooth wooden keys. Christine could feel the presence of tension in the air. She did not know the reason for his tension, though it seemed as though every day he was tense. He lived his life tense. Christine was a foolish girl at the time. Her curiosity got the best of her all the time. She looked into her angel's bedroom secretly, the ash wooden door pushed slightly open to allow her to see a small bit of the room, as well as the owner of the room. This cannot be his room, she thought silently, this looks like a dead man's eternal resting place. The room was black. She could think of nothing more to describe it. Instead of a bed, she saw a coffin with the lid firmly shut. The tables were all a dark wood she could not name. As the same as the rest of the house, there were no windows, though in this room, it seemed more sad to think about. How could he live this way?  
  
He felt her presence, though he did not acknowledge it. He continued to pound away at the keys, pausing only a minute or so to write down his work. Christine was always the curious type, he thought. He was worried that he had scared her at first when he had appeared to her in her dressing room mirror. She had not seen him ever before. She had been frightened by the appearance, but then relieved and joyous. Their lesson had not yet begun, because she had not seemed ready. She wished to go to her room for the night and rest to become refreshed and ready to sing, but it had been only three hours and she was at the door, peering in at him. Though he did not hear her come in through the door, heading towards the organ and her angel.  
  
She had to find out why he was wearing the mask. She could not stand not knowing. What was he hiding? Her footsteps did not make a sound on the black carpeted floors, though she doubted that he would hear her because of the volume of his Don Juan Triumphant. If he had seen her, it would have appeared that she was gliding towards him. Her face was set, her thoughts, ready, and her hand was reaching slowly out to her angel. Just as Erik was feeling the presence of someone behind him, he turned around, but it was too late. His white silk mask fell to the floor, revealing his face to Christine Daae, who backed away in fear of what she saw.  
  
"Damn you! Curse you! Is this what you wanted to see?! Well, here it is! Gaze upon me! Look at me! This is what you wanted to see! Now you know of the angel who lives in hell! Now you know the true face of Erik!" he spat at her, raging and storming over to where Christine sat, weeping on the floor of his room, terrified.  
  
[End of Flashback]  
  
Christine looked into the eternal darkness. She reached up to her pale, though still cream colored cheek and found a silent tear gliding down it. More came and soon she was crying soft whispers of weeping sounds resounding off the blank walls of the endless-seeming hallway that lead her to the violin music. She paused for a moment, finally regaining control of herself, to kneel down on the floor and cry for everything that had happened to her. It seemed that misfortune was what she had everywhere she went, every day of her life. She could not stand the feel of helplessness inside of her, the presence of loss. But, after a few more minutes of shuddered tears, she found the strength to get up and keep going, continuing on in the direction of the soft lullaby.  
  
As Christine grew nearer to the source of the music, she began to look about her as she walked, knowing that that particular hallway seemed vaguely familiar, though she could not think of why. The sounds of the violin's strings began to grow louder and closer and every crescendo was becoming grander and more extravagant and it seemed as though the musician was pouring his life and soul into what he was piecing together, as if he were making the song up as he went along. Christine had become fond of the music in a very short amount of time, and she was beginning to wonder who was playing such a piece. As the violin held out a high note, she felt herself take in a deep breath. Then, the violin silenced altogether. Christine felt a deep sense of loss inside her, sad that the music had ended. But, the violin started again, this time, playing a piece familiar to her, though she had only heard it once before, and began to sing:  
  
"Night time sharpens...  
  
Heightens each sensation...  
  
Darkness wakes...  
  
And stirs imagination...  
  
Silently the senses...  
  
Abandon their defenses...  
  
Helpless to resist...  
  
The notes I write...  
  
For I compose...  
  
The Music of the Night..."  
  
Her small footsteps began to draw near of the room containing the music...  
  
"Slowly, gently...  
  
Night unfurls its splendor...  
  
Grasp it...  
  
Sense it...  
  
Tremulous and tender..."  
  
The darkness was becoming darker and the hallway, more familiar...  
  
"Hearing is believing...  
  
Music is deceiving...  
  
Hard as light...  
  
Yet soft as candlelight...  
  
Dare you trust...  
  
The Music of the Night..."  
  
Christine began to realize where the violin was leading her...  
  
"Close your eyes...  
  
Start a journey through a strange new world...  
  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before...  
  
Close your eyes...  
  
And let music set you free...  
  
Only then can you belong...  
  
To me..."  
  
Christine's footsteps were echoing, though she could not hear it above the music...  
  
"Floating, falling...  
  
Sweet intoxication...  
  
Touch me, trust me...  
  
Savor each sensation...  
  
Let the dream begin...  
  
Let your darker side give in..."  
  
The music was closer...  
  
"To the power of the music that I write..."  
  
She reached the door...  
  
"The power of..."  
  
She grasped the bronze handle...  
  
"The Music of the..."  
  
She opened the door...  
  
Christine never finished the song, for she found that she had opened the door to her dressing room. The violin was playing unaccompanied. She slowly tiptoed in, and the door slammed shut and locked itself, as the violin fell to the floor and shattered at her feet. 


	12. Those Reunited

A/N- Ok, since I haven't been updating in a while since last chappie, I am gonna try to do it more often...and kudos to DolphinAnimagus! Yes, the golden eyes are Erik's, and you have guessed correctly for the blue-eyed man! YAYNESS! And we won't see anymore of the therapist ...I only put it in to increase tension and to make Christine's life seem more unfortunate...but, I must say, I think it added a little something, don't you think? And, Linky, if you're still reading this (and I hope you are), if you go to my url ) and read the bio, you will see that I wrote what happened when I tried to call you...hope to talk to you soon! Oh, by the way, please R&R! I'm desperate! (story gonna end soon!) (not yet though) PS- The ending to this chappie is different to what I had before, so you need to read that before proceeding to the final chappie (for those who need to reread, the new material begins where you see ---).  
  
XII.  
  
Christine shuddered as she looked back around to the door that was open, now locked shut. She hated the room in which she stood. It was not only the dusty room she had to spend every day in during her time at the opera house, it was the passage way to the underworld, to Erik. She had not been in it for so long, and she could tell, neither had anyone else. She looked at the floor, which was strewn in dust. The flowers she had gotten from her admirers (particularly, Raoul) from her last performance were also trailing the floor, now all dead and decaying. She could not even tell which flower was which kind. Her eyes lifted to see her bed, still covered in her silk sheets and woven blanket. Mama Valerius had woven that blanket for her when she was only a small toddler. She had watched the careful handwork of Mama Valerius and saw that she was putting forth her best efforts to make such a blanket. She had cared for it ever since she first received it, vowing to always keep it close. But she grew older and saw she had no need for the blanket except when she was sleeping and cast it to the dark shadows of her closet, not seeing it for almost seven years. When Mama Valerius had died, she had wept for days, almost months, knowing that she would never see that kind old woman again. It was only her and Papa, and then, Papa died, and she turned to the opera theatre to give her a job, and a job she was granted. She had no where else to go, and no one to comfort her, so she took back her blanket, to remember all of the good times she shared with the two people she loved most. Now looking at the cobweb- covered blanket, she knew that she was no longer a little girl, but a woman, grown up after so much torment.  
  
There was a sound. "Who is there?" she called. No one replied. She took a step back and her heel landed on a wooden piece from the violin that had just been playing moments before. Forgetting the violin, the candles, and everything else that seemed to work by itself, she turned back to the door, trying to find out a way to get out, since no one would come in and find her. She started to try fiddling with the lock, to see if it would budge, but it would not. She banged on the door, pushed against the door, rattled the lock, but nothing would work. ---She tried and tried as long as she could and when she felt she had no strength left, she slid to the floor, resting her head on the door that stood behind her, having not moved a bit.  
  
He was close. So close to being reunited again with the one he had lost one year ago. He could almost taste his victory. Seeing her again would bring a joy to his heart that he had not felt in so long. His footsteps grew stronger and harder and resounded back to him in perfect rhythms of courage, beating soundly with his heart as he grew closer to the room, a look of pride on his face.  
  
Christine could do nothing but surrender herself fully to the darkness that was surrounding her. She grasped the sparkling chain around her neck and toyed with it as she looked around for something that could help her try to get out. She could use her chair as a battering ram, she thought, recalling the usage of battering rams in an opera they had once preformed. The door was too strong. She could never break it down with the thin chair and her small figure. She looked around at all of the other things in the room, racking her brain for anything that would be helpful. Nothing came. Whatever little hope she had inside of her was extinguished.  
  
He began to feel afraid. What if she did not recognize him? What if she had forgotten him? What if she had found another? What if...he no longer questioned. There were too many 'what if's in everyone's life, including his own, and he did not need more. He could only hope for the best. He ran faster and faster as the old theatre images rushed past his eyes, making him long for his love even more.  
  
There was no way out, no solution, no end. She could think of nothing, her thoughts ending on one answer: death. She would die there, alone, falling forever into legend, never to be found by anyone. Tears caressed her cheeks and fell to the floor where they landed without sound. Her life was alone now, pointless. She was trapped.  
  
Closer and closer he got as he raced the halls searching for his beloved...  
  
Her hands came to her eyes in bitter weeps of sorrow...  
  
The doors of the hallway rushed past him as he searched for the right one...  
  
Cries of anguish became louder as her diamond tears traced the floor...  
  
A few more doors and he would see her again...  
  
How could it end this way? She pounded her head in angst and torment against the door...but she stopped and noticed something. The door pounded back. Her tears slowly subsided as she heard through the door, someone yelling. She listened for the caller, and heard it clearly:  
  
"Christine!" called the voice. She has heard that voice somewhere before, but she could not think of where, and confusion swooped down upon her. Her mind was amiss with jumbles of confusion all the time in her life and she was tired of never being able to sort it out.  
  
"I am here! Help!" she called out to the mysterious person. He pounded on the door, but it would not budge. "I will get you out!" he shouted to her, trying to calm her.  
  
"Tell me, who are you?" she questioned, wanting to know of her mysterious rescuer.  
  
"Why, Monsieur de Changy! How delightful to see you after so much time," called Erik's voice hauntingly, though Christine could not see him through the door. He must have snuck up on Raoul- wait. She was no fool. That couldn't be Raoul! Erik killed Raoul a year ago! It couldn't be! Could it?  
  
"Let her go, Erik!" Raoul yelled back to him. Christine thought about the voice. Could it be? Could it possibly be Raoul? Alive? 


	13. Those FightingThose Gone

A/N- You might need to go back to the last chapter and see if you read it AFTER I rewrote it...then you'll understand the ending of the story. Ok, this is the moment you have all been waiting for...THE END OF MY STORY! Yes, this is my final (and longest) chappie! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you very much for reading my first ever fic! PS- RubyMoon2, I'm sorry I called Raoul a fop...forgive me? PPS- I was havin' a writer's block on how to end this and the kid I babysit for helped me through it...thanx bEbEEp!  
  
XIII.  
  
The two men standing in the hallway were emitting so much hatred, so much loathing of each other that Christine Daae could practically feel it through the wall that separated her from them. She put her ear to the mahogany door and felt its coldness. She could not see anything, though she was almost sure that each man had a weapon. No one spoke for a long time, yet it was still not silent. No breeze flew through the opera house, nothing uttered a sound, though, strangely, it wasn't quiet. There was something that made the air echo a soft whisper to be heard by all three of them, giving everything around them a sense of eeriness, a sense of age. The quiet spoke volumes to them, though it did not last for long. Finally, someone spoke, and broke the quiet that was not really quiet at all.  
  
"We will end this, Monsieur, now," Erik spat with all the hatred he could muster. "Christine will be mine."  
  
"Over my dead body," answered Raoul, readying himself for the fight.  
  
"We shall see if we can arrange that," replied Erik, doing the same. Christine was afraid of this. She did not want them to fight, though she knew their love for her, and hatred for each other ran as deep as any sea. Forgetting her feeling of helplessness, she began, again, to bang on the door, begging it to fall.  
  
On the other side of the door, Erik and Raoul heard the banging, though they paid no mind to it, preparing their weapons away from their opponent's eyes. Raoul was filling his silver plated revolver with as many bullets as it would carry, as well as hiding a board in the back of his jacket, having it stick up at his neckline, so that if Erik used the Punjab lasso, it would not have effect upon him. Meanwhile, Erik was practicing his aim, making sure that it would be true, for he was sure that Raoul would not escape his Punjab lasso a second time. Christine was putting all of the might she could in trying to bring the door down, though all it would do is rattle the dust. As she feared, the fight began.  
  
Raoul shot three times at Erik, who dodged them all, his cape billowing menacingly behind him. Erik swung at Raoul with the lasso, who fell to the floor, out of harm's way. From the floor, Raoul fired again at Erik, missing by an inch. Erik punched Raoul squarely in the jaw, making Raoul tumble to the floor again after he had just gotten up. Raoul returned this gesture, though Erik only stepped back instead of falling to the floor. The fight continued, and Christine heard everything, her heart pounding with fear.  
  
I have to stop them, she thought desperately, her attempts at knocking the door down failing. She looked around the room for anything she thought would be helpful. She looked back at the blanket Mama Valerius had knitted for her. Looking at the window behind her bed, she thought that she could climb out of the window and renter the opera house. No, it would take too long, she thought, neglecting her own idea. But it was worth the try, so she moved as quickly as she could, taking the dust covered blanket and hoisting it out of the window, into the cold, black night.  
  
Not even noticing the absence of the loud thumping sounds on the door, the two men persisted in their fight, each blow becoming more difficult as they grew more tired. They dodged and ducked each other's attacks until finally, Raoul fired a bullet as Erik threw the noose towards him, trying to strangle him. The bullet went through the rope, and both ends fell useless to the floor. Raoul pointed the revolver at Erik, thinking of his victory. When he pulled back the trigger, it gave a soft click, though no bullet came out. He had used all of his bullets. The battle was not over, though neither had a weapon. It was then that they noticed a decoration on the wall. It was an iron shield bearing the French flag. The shield had two crossed swords behind it and was surrounded by intricately detailed ivy leaves. Each man had the same idea, and grasped a sword handle, getting ready to fight to the death.  
  
Christine climbed down the side of the wall, praying to God that she did not fall to the snow-covered ground below. She grasped the blanket as hard as she could, slowly making her way down. After a few minutes of climbing, she finally felt her feet touch the snow, and let go of the blanket. She looked around her, finding herself in a courtyard that she had never seen before. In summer, she could see, it was a garden to many beautiful flowers, with the center piece, a fountain that was filled with beautiful flowing water. But she had no time to examine the beauty of the courtyard. She had to get back inside. And fast.  
  
Back inside, the fight continued, the weapons different, the intent the same. Each slice a sword made through the air made a ferocious sound, a menacing effect. Clinks of sword hitting sword would have sent chills down Christine's spine. Erik swung at Raoul, giving him a notch in his face from which blood steadily trickled. Raoul swung back but Erik dodged it with ease, returning the swing, stopped by Raoul's sword, holding the two at bay for a few seconds. Then, with a mighty push, Erik forced Raoul back and they begun again.  
  
Christine was nearing the entrance to the opera house, fearing that one might have overcome the other in her absence. She perused her dash to the battle scene faster and faster, the wind rushing past her, billowing her brown curls behind her. She almost kicked off her shoes, afraid that they were slowing her down too much. She saw the entrance and rushed through it, afraid she might me too late.  
  
The battle continued on, both men shouting, cursing, taunting the other. Their raised voices were heard by Christine who was quickly coming upon them, free from her dressing room in which Erik had imprisoned her. The old floorboards moaned as the fight got harder and more fierce.  
  
Christine was rushing down the staircase, past the stage and down the hallway, listening to the fight. She heard the clinks and realized that it was getting grim. She pushed herself more and more until she came upon the fight, screaming at what she saw.  
  
Both men were still fighting, hardly noticing that Christine was there. They were covered in sweat and blood, still shouting curses at each other. It was only when Christine spoke was her presence noticed.  
  
"Raoul!" she cried, rooting on her beloved. He turned to see her smiling face, though Erik took this as an opportunity. He crept up behind Raoul, his sword positioned to swing.  
  
"Raoul, look out!" she shouted when she saw what Erik was about to do. Raoul turned in just enough time to save his life, though he was knocked to the floor, cradling his bleeding hand. Erik advanced on Christine, throwing her against the brick wall with much force. She cried out in pain and closed her eyes. Erik secured hidden chains around her wrists and ankles to make sure she didn't get in their way. Raoul had gotten up from the ground, his sword at the ready. Erik stood before him, saying, "This ends now." He charged.  
  
Raoul and Erik fought for so long, Christine lost track of who she thought was winning. Erik would give Raoul a nasty cut, then Raoul would make Erik fall to the ground, and it went on and on, back and forth all night and she could hardly bear to watch it. Then, Raoul seemed to be defeated. He fell to his knees and screamed in agony. It seemed that Erik had won.  
  
Erik whispered, "Christine is mine." Raoul looked at him with the most hate he ever could give.  
  
"NOOO!" Raoul screamed, jumping from the floor, pinning Erik against the wall. Raoul was holding his sword in both hands across Erik neck so that it almost touched him. Christine could have sworn that she saw tinge of fear in his golden eyes.  
  
"You will leave, now. You will leave France and never return. And you will never see Christine, ever," spat Raoul, saying it slow. They stood there for a moment, not saying a word. It was completely quiet that time. But Erik would never go. "No," he whispered. And with a powerful force, he pushed Raoul to the ground, the handle of his sword knocking him in the head.  
  
"Raoul?! Raoul?! RAOUL!" screamed Christine in fear. Erik turned his back to her, and removed a loose brick from the wall. "He is unconscious, my dear," he said. From the hole in the wall, he removed a pistol. Turning to her he said, "He will wake shortly. But you will not see him. I no longer have strength enough to fight. If he would awaken, I would surely loose you, and I cannot have that happen."  
  
Christine struggled against her chains, afraid that he would shoot Raoul. "Don't you dare hurt him!" she shouted, tears forming in her eyes.  
  
"Oh no, I have other plans for him," he whispered, "Though you, I am afraid, will not see them be put into effect." She did not understand what he meant. What would he do to her?  
  
"What are you talking about?" she asked desperately. She tugged harder at the chains, but they would not give way.  
  
"I shall miss you, Christine Daae," he spoke, raising the pistol against her, "but, if I cannot have you, no one can." Christine could not believe it. He loved her, he would kill for her, but kill her for love? It made no sense. But she didn't have much longer to figure out his madness. "Goodbye," he said. And he pulled the trigger.  
  
Christine awoke with a cold sweat running down her face. She had heard a scream. It was a minute or two before she realized that it had been her own. It was just a dream? It had seemed too real to be a dream. Before she had time to ponder it further, her maid rushed through the door.  
  
"What is amiss, my lady?" she questioned, slightly out of breath.  
  
"Nothing," she said, "though, do you know where Monsieur de Changy is?"  
  
The maid looked at her, concerned. "Ma'am, do you know what day it is?"  
  
"No," she answered, confused.  
  
"It is the one year mark, Ma'am," she said quietly, "Monsieur de Changy is gone." And with this, she left the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
Christine sat it bed, thinking about the word she heard. Gone. She had not heard the word since it was spoken at her father's funeral. Though she hadn't heard it, it seemed to follow her everywhere. It was just a dream. Raoul was not really alive. Erik had died after she left. He had gotten sick with no one but Nadir to care for him. Her father had died before all this had happened. So had Mama Valerius. Everyone was disappearing right before her very eyes. Who would it be next? She almost had no one left for her. The moonlight shifted, making the glass on her mirror shine. It caught her attention. She thought for a minute, and got up from her bed. She went to her door, locking it. She did not even bother closing her window, or writing a note. She went to the dresser and found her broken drawer, wrenching the handle from it and throwing it into the mirror. The mirror broke into many pieces, and she picked up the largest piece she could find.  
  
She stood in the center of her room, ready for what she was about to do. She thought once more about her life, looking back on all she had lost. Everything in her life was gone. And, as she cut herself, she, too, was forever gone.  
  
FIN... 


End file.
